Chicken
by CrazyGirl47
Summary: As part of a master evil plan to win Willow over, Spike offers to help her seek a little mostly harmless revenge on Percy for calling her a nerd. 4th season, set right after “Doomed.”
1. Chapter 1

**Chicken**

Spike hummed to himself as he carried the long box up to Stevenson Hall's second floor. For roughly two years now, Spike had had his eye on the Slayer's best friend, the beautiful redheaded witch. She wasn't just gorgeous; she was also caring, compassionate—even to a demon like him—smart and witty and funny and, unlike Dru, sane. At first, he had shoved away the thought of turning her and making her his new companion because he was still stuck on Drusilla, and, fearing change, he'd told himself that it was just a passing physical attraction and anyway Willow was no more obtainable than a _Playboy_ centerfold as far as he was concerned. Friends of the Slayer were hard to kill. But slowly, especially as he became more estranged from Dru, he'd come to realize that he didn't just like the look of her, he liked _her,_ and he wanted her. If that story of Anya's was anything to go by, Willow would make an incredible vampire, too.

When he'd gone to her dorm looking to kill Buffy, he knew there was a good chance he'd find Willow instead. He knew she was Buffy's closest friend and more importantly he'd seen her name on the dormitory register, just a few spaces above Buffy's. So he hadn't "settled," as Willow had thought. He had gone to that dormitory intending to kill Buffy and hoping, praying, that he'd get to claim his witch in the process. Buffy's absence had filled him with hope, not irritation; it would make Willow easier to turn.

Then he'd realized he couldn't bite her, and he'd been completely devastated. Not only did he love violence, killing and the like, but he'd made up his mind to sink his fangs into her delicious neck and then, as she rose from her grave, claim her as his childe and lover.

Stupid bloody military.

He'd brooded about it for days. Then he'd realized that he was acting like that idiot poof Angel, and he instantly stopped. If he couldn't turn her, then he'd have to find another way to make her like him, and truth be told he wouldn't be sad to leave her soul in her body. Her soul was a big part of her—and an added bonus would be that her choosing him would make the stupid Slayer collapse from shock. Maybe even die. Ooh.

The question was how to do it. It wasn't an easy job, though there were signs. Their conversation after his failed attempt to bite her, her refusal to let him stake himself, her attempts to be nice about his lack of scary factor… Still, he figured she'd need a lot more incentive. So his first step was to do something nice for her.

As they'd walked to the high school looking to avert yet another apocalypse, Spike had overheard that Willow had been called a nerd by some bloke named Percy and that it had upset her greatly. Percy wasn't a very common name in modern-day California, and, thanks to a few stories from the Scooby Gang, he was pretty sure that this Percy was the same Percy whom Willow had tutored and whom her alter ego had threatened and scared badly. Now, this Percy idiot was going to present Spike with his first opportunity to win Willow over.

He stole up to Willow's dormitory and, after listening for signs of life, jiggled the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Smiling, he set down his box and stole inside.

The Slayer wasn't there, perhaps out on patrol or shagging her new beau, or maybe just off in the bathroom momentarily. Whatever the case, he didn't plan to be there long.

He headed straight for Willow's bed, upon which she was sleeping soundly, and plunked his hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream and raise the alarm. "Red," he said loudly, "wake up."

Willow's eyes opened. She took one confused look at Spike, paused while her sleep-fogged brain tried to rationalize the situation, and then started screaming into his hand.

"Shh! Shh! I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear it, and I can't do it anyway," Spike hissed. Willow stopped making muffled shouting sounds. "Gonna be good?" She nodded, and Spike removed his hand.

"What do you want?" she asked nervously.

"I've got a gift for you," he said proudly.

"No, really, what do you want?"

Spike sighed in annoyance. "I mean it, I've got a gift. You know, a… a return-favor, for… um… for not letting me stake myself."

Willow's eyebrows rose in surprise and she sat up. "Really?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yes, really. Come on, quick, follow me."

Spike retrieved his box and walked out; Willow followed, though still somewhat nervous. He smiled, pleased beyond belief. At last, he was going to get his girl.

He led her into the bathroom and set down his box. A chubby girl in a bathrobe standing by the sinks let out a yelp when she saw him and pulled her robe tighter.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

Spike, casting about quickly for some excuse to be in a girls' bathroom in the middle of the night, looked at Willow and then pulled her close. Willow let out a little squeak but did not otherwise protest; Spike knew she was probably shocked and scared, but he just smiled charmingly at the girl.

"My girlfriend's roommate's home," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry; I didn't know anyone was in here."

The girl raised her eyebrows, looking at Willow, who forced a shaky smile and tried to look a little less bewildered at being held tightly to Spike's side. The girl then cast an appraising eye at Spike.

"I understand," she said with a knowing grin. "My roommate never leaves. Really throws a wrench in things." She picked up her hairbrush and left with a wink at Willow.

"Um… o-okay, Spike?" Willow stammered. "D-don't take this the wrong way, but if your gift is, uh, something along the lines of s-smoochies—"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, thoroughly amused at her utter terror. "I would never shag you in a bathroom. It's no place for fun, what with the smell and all."

"Oh," Willow said, looking relieved and stepping away from him. Then something else occurred to her and she frowned and looked back at him, wide-eyed. "Does that mean you would… you know… somewhere else?"

Spike grinned wickedly at her. "Tsk, tsk. Someone's being naughty."

Willow was dumbfounded. "M-me? No! You! I didn't—"

She was so much fun to poke fun at. Her face turned rosy with embarrassment instantly and she began to babble and stammer most endearingly. "I had other things in mind, actually," he interrupted. "But, if you fancy a toss, would rather go back to your room…" He gave her an unholy grin.

"No! No, no, no. No offense or anything," she added hurriedly, as always trying to prevent hurting anyone's feelings, "I mean, you're, well, you know, and everything, it's just… okay. Is there any way I can get out of this conversation?"

Spike stifled a laugh and picked up his box. "It's about that Percy bloke."

"Percy?" She seemed confused. "What about him?"

"Well, he insulted you, didn't he?" Spike said matter-of-factly. "How about a little payback?"

Willow's eyes lit up, but almost immediately clouded with suspicion and doubt. "How? It's not as if I can…"

She stopped as Spike opened the box and showed her what was inside—the black corset, pants and boots worn by her vampire double.

"Where did you get that?" Willow asked in awe, staring at the outfit in open-mouthed shock. "It was from another reality! She's not _back,_ is she?" Willow turned her head this way and that as though expecting her evil twin to come out from one of the bathroom stalls.

"No, no," Spike said cheerfully. "You see, Anya told me all about your vampire self dropping by. Apparently, she knew all about the vampire, the reality from whence it came, because she created it and her powers permitted her to see all the changes made to the past because of her wish. So I figured, if this outfit was in an alternate Sunnydale, it might also be in this one, and I was right. Found it sitting in the back of some shop run by bloody poseurs."

"And you bough—Spike! Did you _steal_ that?"

"Of course not," Spike replied, looking wounded. That was, of course, a blatant lie—he'd stolen the outfit and the entire cash register—but Willow didn't need to know that. He doubted she'd take stolen merchandise, and that would interfere with his plans. "Bought and paid for. I owe you one, don't I? In fact, I think I owe you several."

Willow looked sheepish. "Sorry. But… why with the outfit? What, do you want me to go dress up as vampire me and seduce Percy?"

Spike was very startled that this was her first thought, and Willow took his silence as an affirmative. "Spike, I am _not_ se—"

"That wasn't what I had in mind, love," Spike said dryly. "No, I was thinking you could terrify him."

"What?"

"I have it on several accounts that your double threatened and attacked Percy," Spike told her.

Willow's hands flew to her mouth. "That's right… Xander thought Percy was attacking me and stopped her…"

Spike nodded, knowing she'd heard bits of her double's exploits through her friends and Anya. "If you were to show up, wearing this, that fool would be put in his place, wouldn't he?"

For a moment, Willow looked horrified at the thought… but slowly, ever so slowly, he could see the idea take hold. He knew what it was like to feel small, knew what it was to have someone fear you and the terrible feeling of losing that power over someone. He also knew that nothing was more fun than smacking down someone who humiliated you.

"He doesn't go here," Willow said. "He goes to USC."

"But his girlfriend goes here, according to Xander."

"Laurie. She doesn't live far from here, actually. I sit next to her roommate in bio."

Spike grinned. "Come on, love. Show him what for."

Willow shook her head. "It's wrong, Spike. You can't just go around terrorizing…"

"Why not? It's fun. Look, if you won't do it for you, do it for me. Or are you really that much of a wimp?"

Willow looked up at him with a cold but playful gaze. "I know what you're doing, Spike. You're trying to goad me into it."

"So?"

They stared at each other for a long while, both challenging and smiling. Then Willow reached out her hand. "All right, Spike," she said, "let's show him what for."

* * *

Laurie lived in a coed dorm not far from Willow's and Buffy's. Willow, after a long while of struggling to get the outfit on in the handicapped stall, led Spike to it. As they climbed the stairs to Laurie's hall, they heard voices, and paused in the shadows of the doorway to see who it was.

Willow pulled Spike's duster around her more tightly, hiding her leather clothes. Spike's offer to lend it to her had shocked her to the core; she doubted anyone had worn it other than Spike, and maybe Dru, since Spike had gotten it. Craning her neck to see around the corner, she saw them—Percy and Laurie, making their way into Laurie's room, hand in hand.

Suddenly, all fear and shyness was gone from Willow. All she wanted right now was to make Percy wish he'd never ever heard of the word "nerd." Or "egghead."

As the door closed behind Willow, she dropped the jacket from her shoulders and strode forward proudly, head held high. Spike, scooping up his precious duster, hastened after her, put a hand on her shoulder as she started to knock. "Wait," he whispered. "Let's make an entrance."

"You're not coming with me," Willow told him firmly.

"Fine," Spike said, "but I think knocking is a bit underrated, don't you?"

Willow smiled slightly, a smile that looked, he imagined, like one she would have made as a vampire. She nodded at him.

With one swift movement, Spike kicked the door open with a spectacular crash and moved out of the way so that he couldn't be seen. When Percy yelped and turned to look at the door, all he saw was Willow.

"Willow," he gasped, horrorstruck.

"Somebody's been bad," she said in a singsong purr.

Laurie looked from Willow to Percy and back again. Her mind connected the dots, made false connections—no nerd dressed like that, and Percy looked like he'd been caught sneaking around on his girlfriend.

"You lying, cheating bastard!" Laurie yelled, and stormed out of the room.

Willow didn't glance at Laurie as the girl stomped away, didn't acknowledge her presence. She kept her attention on Percy, who looked ready to wet himself.

"Willow, I… please don't hurt me," he whispered.

"You were mean to me, Percy," she said, ignoring his plea. "Called me a nerd. An egghead. Said I was nice, but you liked your women _hot."_ She spoke in a mock-hurt tone.

"You… you heard that? But… but I didn't mean it!" Percy said wildly. "I didn't! Laurie was acting all jealous so I told her I thought you were a geek so she wouldn't think I wanted you!"

A small twinge of guilt gnawed at her insides. During her tutoring sessions with Percy, he'd often seemed surprised at the level of kindness she'd shown him, always pleased when she praised his progress, and sometimes she'd even caught him gazing at her in what looked like admiration. She had also suspected that he might have been saying those hurtful things to appease his girlfriend; once, when Oz had overheard her telling Buffy that so-and-so was hot (meaning "you should go out with him, Buffy,") Willow had rambled for half an hour in denial of it before finally breaking down and telling the truth and trying to defend herself and so on. Oz had found the whole thing adorable, but Laurie appeared the possessive type.

Still, Willow did not relent. She walked over to Laurie's desk, ran a finger along its edge casually, in the bored, coy manner her vampire self had used. Percy shrank away from her.

"You know what I'm capable of, Percy," Willow said softly. "Do I really need to teach you a lesson in manners again?"

"No! No, no, no!" Percy seemed very closed to bursting into tears. "I didn't mean it. I never thought you were a nerd. Okay, yeah, I did, but then I got to know you and I found out you were cool and I would have asked you out if it wasn't for Oz!" he finished in a near shout.

Willow looked away so he wouldn't see the surprise on her face. "Percy," Willow said, her pseudo-vampiric voice holding a note of warning, "it's time to stop being mean. Not just to me. To anyone. If I ever hear about you being cruel or even just a little teensy bit rude again— and believe me, I'll hear about it—you'll wish you'd never learned to speak." She grinned, reverting back to her old self once more. "Okay?"

Percy nodded emphatically. Willow turned and sauntered away.

* * *

Neither Spike nor Willow spoke until they were back at Stevenson Hall, Willow again wrapped in Spike's black leather duster. They paused by the building's entrance and looked up; there was a light on in Willow's bedroom.

"Looks like the Slayer's back," Spike said glumly.

Willow nodded but didn't speak. They stood together in the shadows in comfortable silence. At length, Willow said, "I like this coat. It's warm. And it has all these nifty inner pockets."

"Hands out of there, love," Spike told her worriedly.

Willow smiled and took off his duster, handed it back to him and held up her hands to show they were empty. She stood in her corset, not bothering to cross her arms over her chest self-consciously as she might have done under different circumstances, had done once long ago on her way to the Bronze with the gang every time she saw Xander and Angel glance her way. She felt strangely confident, as though nothing in the world could touch her. She didn't know why she felt that way, but she knew that it was all Spike's doing.

"Thanks, Spike," she said softly.

"For what? Oh, right. Yeah. Well, no big deal." He shrugged as though doing something as benevolent as what he had just done was a minor lapse in judgment that he couldn't be bothered with regretting. "Besides, I was the one who got to see you in that getup."

Willow laughed, and Spike smiled along with her. The insanity of the situation had just struck Spike—he had just lured the Slayer's best friend from her bed, given her a skimpy outfit and sent her out to seek revenge on some idiot boy, let her wear his coat to keep her warm and concealed. He didn't know much about the history of such things, but he'd bet everything in the world that he was the only person to do such a ludicrous thing, especially with the motive of eventually asking her out.

"You'd never get up the nerve to shag me, Spike," Willow said suddenly, looking up at him with a sort of surprised fascination that puzzled Spike. He couldn't understand, couldn't think. His only thought, and it immediately seemed a stupid one, was that he heard a tiny ounce of disappointment in her voice. "You're too much of a chicken."

Spike gaped at her, unable to believe she'd said something so forward and, at the same time, managed to call him a wimp. It would have been less of a shock to drop a bright purple mint-condition 1971 Dodge Charger on his head. "I beg your pardon?" he managed to splutter. "Watch who you're calling chicken!"

"If you're not a chicken, then ask me," Willow challenged. She moved closer, backing him against the wall, getting in his face. "Ask me to go back to your place. Or any place. Or right here on the front steps."

Spike was completely able to say a word. All he could think about was her, though some small part of him appeared to be trying to tell him that perhaps he'd given her a tad too much confidence in herself.

Willow smiled, and Spike could have sworn it was tinged with sadness. She leaned up on the tiptoes of her heeled boots and kissed his cheek. "Thanks again, Spike," she said, and turned to go back inside.

"Maybe I don't want to ask you," Spike blurted out, pleased to hear the boldness in his voice.

She paused at the doorway, looked back over her shoulder, and added, quite simply, "Bock, bock!"

Then she was gone.

* * *

Buffy was surprised to find the dorm room empty when she came back from patrol; Willow had already been asleep when Buffy had left. She paused for a moment, wondering if Willow was only in the bathroom or something, but by the time Buffy had changed into her pajamas and gotten ready for bed, Willow had not returned.

Just after she lay down and closed her eyes, she heard the door open, and she received quite a jolt to see Willow stride in purposefully, wearing the same outfit as Vamp Willow along with Willow's patented resolve face. She didn't spare so much as a glance at Buffy as she marched over to the window, flung it open, and yelled down into the darkness below.

"If you ever want to stop your clucking, let me know!"

With that, Willow slammed the window shut and lay down on her bed without bothering to take off the corset, leather pants and boots. She pulled the blanket over her and only then did she meet Buffy's thunderstruck gaze.

"Good night, Buffy!" Willow said cheerfully, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Spike had been leaning against the wall, trying to sort out this bizarre chain of events, when he heard her shout down from the window. A sudden recklessness came over him, and he started for the door, prepared to march up there, throw her on her bed, and—

—and get staked by the Slayer lounging three feet away.

_Oh, yeah,_ he thought dismally.

He snorted. Didn't that just beat all? There he was, having done what he set out to do, being dared by the object of his affections to carry him off to his place and all he could do was stare at her in numb shock. He'd completely choked. Confidence boost, ha! She didn't need one anymore. She had it in spades.

_Did she ever need it?_ he wondered, frowning. _She fights with the Slayer all the time, risks life and limb and sanity to help…_

"Who's she to call me chicken?" he burst out, the clucking noise she'd made on the doorstep still ringing in his ears. "She's the one hiding behind a Slayer. Couldn't go get her if I tried. What am I supposed to do, march up there and tell the Slayer that I just want to borrow her friend cuz I fancy her? And even if the Slayer didn't stake me outright, all the yelling she'd do would just draw the commando boys. Oh, bugger! The commandos!" Spike glanced about uneasily.

"I'll be back!" he shouted suddenly at the dark night sky. "I'll be back, Red, and then we'll see who's the bloody CHICKEN!"

"Hey, shut up down there," called a sleepy resident from a nearby dorm. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Sorry," Spike said distractedly. He walked glumly away, knowing that, when all was said and done, he would not be back tomorrow. But as he left the campus, he brightened slightly, felt a little bit of his depression ease.

At least he wasn't as pathetic as Percy.

* * *

_End Notes:_ This story popped into my head six hours ago as a result of little sleep and fourth-season Buffy reruns and it wouldn't leave me alone until I typed it up. If I get feedback saying people would like a story out of this, I may do one; this story hit me so suddenly that I haven't had time to think of much beyond the scenes I just wrote. For now, it's a one-shot, but if inspiration is on my side and a few of you happen to think a story would be a good idea, I think I'd kind of like to play with it, time willing. Anyway, please review. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Notes:_ I've decided to continue, at least for the moment, mostly because I found a new idea. This is set during "The I in Team," two episodes after "Doomed." To be more specific, this is set after Buffy left the Bronze with the Initiative and Willow went to Tara's, but before Willow and Buffy came back to the dorm and realized they both had been out all night. This story is still going to be very erratically updated; sorry for that.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Spike raced through the night, his muscles burning from hours of exertion. He didn't know what he was going to do. The commandos kept coming, no matter where he went, no matter how fast he ran. His head was killing him from repeated attempts to save himself that forced him to use violence.

_The university,_ Spike thought wildly. _Slayer… Willow…_

It was his only chance. Panic rising within him, he dashed towards the campus. It was a risky move—after all, the commando guys were stationed there—but if he didn't get help, he was dead.

He sped across the manicured lawns of U.C. Sunnydale, heading for Stevenson Hall. As he approached the doorway, a sizzling noise sounded somewhere behind him and he ducked just in time to avoid the blast from one of the high-tech gadgets carried by the military men. Fighting down a roar of frustration, struggling to maintain his human visage as the demon within him balked in outrage and fury and indignation, he burst through the front entrance to the dormitory and ran smack into Willow.

"Willow!" he hissed as he caught her to keep her from falling. "You've got to help—commandos—kill me!"

Spike grabbed her arm and made to run for her room, hoping they could reach it, hoping the Slayer was there, hoping she would help him, but Willow shook him off and grabbed his jacket in each hand. She spoke, strange words in Latin that Spike wasn't able to translate, and he felt a tingling sensation run through his body, accompanied quickly by a most bizarre feeling, as if his skin was moving around over his bones.

The door burst open again; three military guys in plainclothes, led by Graham, ran into the room and stopped short, looking uneasy at the sight of Willow and Spike. Each carried a pack, inside which Spike knew they hid their weapons. Spike screwed his eyes shut, certain this was the end…

"Graham!" Willow exclaimed, a note of fear in her voice. She started moving in a jittery sort of way, wringing her hands.

"Oh, hi, uh—Willow, right? Buffy's friend?"

Willow nodded and prattled on. "Graham, you've got to go for the campus police! This ugly bleached b-blond guy ran through here and he snarled at us and he ran out that way—" She waved her hand jerkily at the other entrance to Stevenson. "I think there was something wrong with him, o-or he might hurt someone, his face looked funny… he came at me but Xander here—" she jerked her thumb at Spike— "he shoved the guy back and the guy ran and you've got to get the police! Oh, I need to sit down…" Willow slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

The three guys looked at each other. "Don't worry, Willow," Graham said hastily, a note of genuine concern for her in his voice even as he looked eagerly at the other exit. "We'll go get the cops."

They took off running and were gone in a matter of seconds without so much as a backwards glance at Spike. He stared after them in amazement, hardly able to believe his luck. He turned back to Willow and barely had time to register the wide grin on her face before he realized that his jacket, his wonderful leather duster, was now a Hawaiian shirt of the hideous variety.

"What did you _do?"_ Spike yelped in dismay.

"Shh!" Willow hissed. "They might come back if they hear yelling. I turned you into Xander."

"WHAT?" Spike roared.

"It's only temporary!" Willow hurriedly assured him. "It was just a glamour spell to keep them from seeing you. To them, you looked like Xander. In fact, you will to everyone, at least for a while. You have to get out of sight as fast as you can."

"Thank you," Spike breathed, uncomfortable about looking like the idiot Xander but beyond grateful that she'd saved him; he had to fight the urge to throw his arms around her and swing her about. Then he glanced around apprehensively. He had been running all night, had ditched and stopped the commandos several times, but they'd kept coming. Where could he possibly take refuge?

"Hide me?" he said pleadingly.

"Spike—"

"Please? Pretty please? I'll be good, I promise!"

Willow stared up at him; unbeknownst to Spike, he was giving her Xander's patented puppy-dog face, which had always melted her in the past.

"All right," she said resignedly. "Come up to my room."

"Your room? But the Slayer—"

"Is out with Riley and the Initiative. I get the feeling they'll be 'hunting' all night," she said with a touch of bitterness.

"Right," Spike said. "Okay then."

Awkwardly, he followed her to her room, keeping a nervous eye out for soldiers. The moment Willow unlocked the door, Spike darted inside. "Let the spell be ended," Willow said with a wave of her hand, and Spike looked down and found his own clothing had returned. He felt his face, pleased to note his features seemed to be his own again.

"You've got to teach me how to do that," Spike said, impressed. "Would come in handy."

"Teach _you_ magic? Yeah, right," Willow scoffed. "You're pretty much the last person on earth I want running around doing spells."

Spike started to retort, but Willow turned her back on him and strode over to her clock. "I'm setting the alarm," she told him. "It'll go off one hour before sunrise. Then you're on your own." She took off her shoes, set down her bag and flopped on her bed, pulling the covers to her.

"You're going to sleep?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, Spike. That's what most humans do when it's nighttime," Willow said wearily. She was starting to get more and more annoyed. She'd had a great time with Tara, almost completely forgetting that Buffy had ditched her and Xander had allowed Anya to lead him from the Bronze to go have sex once Buffy was gone. Indeed, she'd allowed herself to forget just who she was. No thoughts of slaying had entered her mind, no worries about the Initiative and the Scooby gang, no upsetting angry mental rants about Xander dating Anya. And, most importantly, no more thinking about what _the hell_ Spike's deal was, which had been plaguing her ever since he'd come by with that outfit. She hadn't let herself remember that he'd tried to help her, that she'd challenged him to ask her back to his place. It had been just Tara and magic, not wondering if she needed to start taking anti-psychotics. Then Spike had shown up again, digging up all her inner turmoil. Giles's pain at being separated from Buffy and unemployed, Anya's tendencies to be annoying, Xander's panting-dog attentions to Anya, Oz's departure, the strange military presence, Buffy immersing herself in Riley and leaving Willow alone, and so on were too much to deal with as it was. Willow wasn't sure she could take anything else, especially not some strange attraction—even if, or perhaps because, it was quite possibly a mutual one—to Spike, who had once scared the crap out of her, and still did on some level.

Spike stared at her in disbelief. "And what am I supposed to do while you're having naptime, eh?" he demanded.

"I said I'd hide you. Not entertain you." Willow closed her eyes, hoping he'd take the hint.

"But I'm bored!"

"Then go back to running from the Initiative."

"But—"

"Be quiet!" she said firmly, and snuggled against her pillows.

"But… but what if I try to kill you in your sleep? I'm the big bad, remember?"

"You're chipped."

"Damn… uh… what if the Slayer comes home?"

"Then you'll get staked, and I'll get some sleep."

"But… um…" Spike racked his brains for another arguing point. He had just realized that here was his chance to talk to her, to be alone with her, maybe do something fun—and she wanted to _sleep!_ How could she sleep at a time like this?

"Willow," he began. She didn't respond. "Willow! Hey, Red! Come on, wake up, love. I'm bored. I'm going to read your diary! Yes, that's what I'm gonna—ow! It shocked me! How did… stupid magic! You put spells on your diary? Oh, fine. No trust, that's what's wrong with the world. I'll just go… uh… look through the Slayer's things!"

This did in fact seem like a very good idea, and Spike started forward, then stopped with an uneasy glance at the door. If Buffy happened to walk in and find him with his hands on her stuff…

"Or maybe I'll, uh… hmm." Spike saw the corners of Willow's mouth twitch in amusement as she feigned sleep. His eyes narrowed in irritation. He had an overwhelming urge to jump on her bed and do all sorts of naughty things to her… but she seemed to be in the mood to kick him clear across the room. Sighing, Spike sat down on Buffy's bed and thought hard about what he could do to get her to talk, what he could say that would be interesting enough to keep her from ignoring him.

"I really was going to turn you last year."

Willow's eyes opened just a crack. "I was. When I kidnapped you," he said seriously, trying to keep the eagerness over her attention out of his voice. "That's why I chose you, and not the shopkeeper."

"You were not," Willow said, rolling her eyes. "You're just trying to keep me awake."

"No, I was going to! I figured if it didn't work out, if Dru couldn't be brought back, I'd turn you."

Willow stared at him for a moment. "Why?" she asked finally, her face and voice expressionless.

Spike shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea. Part of me wanted to do it whether the spell worked or not. In fact, I almost did, remember? I was gonna eat you."

Willow nodded and then shook her head, suddenly realizing that she was flattered that Spike had planned to kill her. "Why are you telling me this?" she demanded, staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"Well… you were the one asking if you were bite-able the other day," he said lamely.

"You mean right before I creamed you with the lamp?"

"Yeah. That was downright rude of you, you know. I already had a headache."

Willow smiled at him slightly, marveling at just how strange her life was. "Look, I know the whole I'm-gonna-bite-you thing is considered a vampire compliment, but since, well, you know… I don't want to die..."

"Don't know why you don't. You'd be a bloody good vampire."

"Thank you. I mean…" Willow sighed. "Spike? My life has been very hectic lately and… and I kind of need some not-confusing time, okay?"

Willow was rather shocked to see Spike nod and attempt to respect her wishes, glancing around the room curiously. She had no way of knowing that Spike considered her confusion a great victory; the way Spike saw it, if she was confused, then it could only mean she was feeling something funny towards him, and something funny could possibly lead to something nifty.

Willow frowned, lost in thought about Spike and his motives. His bringing that outfit by had just been weird… and why was he telling her about his previous plans to bite her? Obviously vampires weren't _that_ choosy. After all, someone had made Harmony a vampire, and that was definitely a sign of bad taste. Willow had seen quite a few pathetic excuses for vampires wandering around Sunnydale.

"What shopkeeper?" Willow blurted out.

"Hmm?"

"What shopkeeper? You mentioned a shopkeeper."

"Oh! The one in the magic shop. I was looking for a good curse to use on Angel and you came in. That was how I learned you could do magic. I thought about taking the shopkeeper, as it's not really a good idea to kidnap the Slayer's friends, but then I got the bright idea to take you, and turn you if you couldn't do it. What were you doing there, anyway? I remember something about love spells and anti-lust spells… who was that for, by the way? Some sort of errand for the Slayer?"

"No, that… well, it was for me. And Xander. You know, you almost completely ruined my relationship with Oz!"

_"I_ almost ruined it? Excuse me, but you're the one who wasn't satisfied and actually went after that idiot Xander. I mean, come on. If you got that desperate, Dog Boy couldn't have been that much fun."

"Hey! He was too! And what do _you_ know!" Willow sat up, looking angry and defensive. "I had a crush on Xander since that day with the yellow crayon. I spent years hoping he'd notice me. Is it any wonder I acted like that when he finally did? Besides, I was in the process of casting that stupid de-lusting spell when you showed up. If I'd just had the time to cast it, I could have fixed everything."

"Red, if you had to cast a spell to keep you from cheating on your boyfriend, you couldn't have been that committed to him."

"This from the guy who needed a love spell to keep Drusilla!" Willow spat.

Spike's jaw tightened. "Watch it," he said warningly.

"Or what? You'll growl at me?" Willow snorted and lay back down. "Get out, Spike."

"No."

Willow's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Get out."

"Why should I? Because the truth hurts? Admit it, will you?"

"Admit what?" Willow demanded, propping herself up and glaring at him.

"That all you really cared about was him not leaving. It wasn't about love."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Red. I may be an evil soulless vampire, but I know about love. I know what it is and what it isn't. You cared about him, maybe. But you weren't committed, see. That's the difference between real love and the bonds formed between two people who don't want to be alone. Wanting to be together, forever, _that's_ love. Wanting to be together while you bang your loser lackey behind your man's back, that's—"

"Shut up!" Willow screamed. "What do you know? Huh? You think you can feel, the way we do? You're a demon, Spike, just another creature, just part of the food chain, no direction, no ambition, no desire, no nothing! You're an animal!"

She picked up the diary and lobbed it at his head. "Now get the hell out of my room before I stake you myself!" she shrieked.

The shock of magic hit him hard as the diary connected with his temple; he batted it away and jumped up. "Fine," he growled, and stormed out.

He slammed the door and leaned against it, closing his eyes and letting his head thunk back against the door. Not only had he just blown his chance of hiding for the night, but he'd probably just ruined any chance he might have ever had with Willow.

Great.


End file.
